"Why, I'm sorry too, ma'am," he said gravely. He urged his pony through the mud and brought it to a halt beside her. "If you'd shake hands on that, ma'am, I'd be mighty tickled." Her hand went out to him. He took it and pressed it warmly, looking at it, marveling at it, for the glove on it could not conceal its shapeliness or its smallness. He dropped it presently, and taking off his hat, bowed to her. "Thank you, ma'am," he said; "I'll be seein' you ag'in some time. I hope you'll like it here." "I am sure I shall." He grinned and turned away. Her voice halted him. "May I know who has been so kind to us in our trouble?" He reddened to the roots of his hair, but faced her. "Why, I reckon you'll know, ma'am. I'm King Randerson, foreman of the Diamond H, up the crick a ways. That is," he added, his blush deepening, "I was christened 'King.' But a while ago a dago professor who stayed overnight at the Diamond H tipped the boys off that 'King' was Rex in Latin lingo. An' so it's been Rex Randerson since then, though mostly they write it '_W-r-e-c-k-s_.' There's no accountin' for notions hereabouts, ma'am." "Well, I should think not!" said the lady, making mental note of the blueness of his eyes. "But I am sure the boys make a mistake in spelling your name. Judging from your recent actions it should be spelled '_R-e-c-k-l-e-s-s_.' Anyway, we thank you." "The same to you, ma'am. So long." He flashed a smile at Aunt Martha; it broadened as he met Uncle Jepson's eyes; it turned to a grin of derision as he looked at Masten. And then he was splashing his pony across the river. They watched him as he rode up the slope on the opposite side; they held their breath as pony and rider climbed the steeper slope to the mesa. They saw him halt when he reached the mesa, saw him wave his hat to them. But they did not see him halt the pony after he had ridden a little way, and kiss the palm of the hand that had held hers. CHAPTER III AT THE FLYING W It fell to Uncle Jepson to hitch the blacks to the buckboard--in a frigid silence Masten had found his trunk, opened it and drawn out some very necessary dry clothing; then marching behind a thick clump of alder, he proceeded to make the change. After this he climbed down to the river and washed the mud from visible portions of his body. Then he returned to the buckboard, to find the others waiting for him. In a strained silence he climbed up to the seat beside Ruth, took up the reins, and sent the blacks forward. It was ten miles to the Flying W ranchhouse, and during the ride the silence was broken only once. That was when, at about the fifth mile, Ruth placed a hand on Masten's arm and smiled at him.